Writing begins with a pen and ends with a mural.

Cold

I saw not the other side
bound by the vice in my head
temperature rising
as the nasal membrane drains
tears formulate in rushes
while the ears itch and clog
body drained of energy
for standing only brings vertigo
the throat of sand paper
guides the liquids as they flow
aching upsets the rest
part of the way to getting better
though I saw not the other side